


i found an island in your arms

by fannyatrollop



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Office Romance, also violet the girl friday, bit of an age gap, raja having a youthful confusion moment at the age of 40, useless pining, violet the amateur burlesque star
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyatrollop/pseuds/fannyatrollop
Summary: Well into middle age, after an impulsive move across the country, Raja develops a schoolgirl crush. Silver fox meets stone fox. No shared office surfaces are harmed in the making of this story.
Relationships: Sutan Amrull | Raja/Violet Chachki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	i found an island in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know if anyone follows me as an author, really, so this might mean little but: hello! it’s been a while! 
> 
> this was supposed to be a oneshot. it grew into a monster, and in my craving for validation/the rush of posting something, i’ve split it in half and am releasing part one while i finish the second. i’ve been working on this thing for a couple of months, and recently added a little to it, so i feel like i’m on a bit of a roll. i might be wrong, but i’ve come to terms with being a george r. r. martin kind of fanfic writer.
> 
> i’ve gotten messages asking about my other works, and all i can say is... i want to finish them too. i love all my stories, but i made a few life changes from where i was when i started them and had a less stable year as a result. it was worthwhile, but stressful, and the motivation to really work on my backlog wasn’t there. i’m a really fussy and perfectionistic writer, too, so i’ve psyched myself up a little many times. there are things i’d like to do with some of my older fics, some minor rewrites because i always think that they could be _better_. i’ll do that at my pace, and extend my apologies for how very slow that pace is. the canadian in me can’t resist saying sorry!
> 
> still, i’m excited to see what people think about this story! i don’t think it comes up, so i’d like to point out that violet is 27 here. i thought a lot of someone i knew at my first office temping job while writing this, and her influence can be found in violet’s desk decoration. also decided not to even try and set this in a particular setting because setting is one of the things that drive me especially nuts.

Raven was angry enough to keep the dog when they broke up, but she goes along to drop Raja off at the airport anyway. 

She claims shotgun on the drive there, with Manila on the wheel. Relegated to the backseat, Raja is chauffeured out of town by the two most meaningful connections she has left. Manila takes up all the airspace in the car, rambling about the weather, about the radio station she hates but can’t be bothered to change, about Raja being older than dirt. It’s not intended as insurance against a clash of the exes, Manila is just the type who will fill an empty space if she sees one, but it serves the purpose well enough. Raven’s face, reflected in the rearview mirror, betrays no sign of emotion. 

When Raja checks into her flight, they share a lingering hug.

“Call me whenever you wanna FaceTime with Charlie,” she says. “Or if you wanna talk to me. You’re still welcome to do that.”

Raja thanks her. She thinks she can feel a single tear rolling down her cheek. She knows Raven isn’t crying. It’s not something either of them can do without being blitzed out of their minds. But  _ she _ might have just shed  _ one _ tear, stone cold sober.

Maybe there was something in the tea Manila gave her that morning.

“God, Raven, stop hogging my best friend so I can say goodbye.”

Manila sounds like a bad actress trying not to cry, so Raja scoops her up. 

“Shhh,” Raja says, stroking Manila’s hair. “You’re glad to see me go. More work for you.”

“I wasn’t struggling,” Manila whines. “You’re breaking my heart, you know that? Who’s gonna bury you when you break your hip and can’t get back up, huh? Moving all the way out east at your age…”

“I’ll get Life Alert.”

She kisses the top of Manila’s head and gives Raven a parting nod. 

Then, she’s off.

***

Manila is right. At the ripe old age of 40, conventional wisdom says that Raja should be nesting. Hell, she should have a nest  _ built _ by now. She should  _ not _ be flying across the country, uprooting herself to try and scratch an itch she’d been ignoring. Yet, here she is, leaving California after 30 whole years. In the Middle Ages, that could easily have been a lifetime.

If Raja wanted to, she could blame Raven for destabilizing her life by breaking up with her. She knows, however, that Raven’s decision was entirely valid.

“You don’t hate marriage,” she’d said, in her usual monotone. “You just don’t want it with  _ me _ .”

Technically, they could have been said to be in a common law marriage. But that wasn’t the point, was it?

Raja liked to think that Raven wasn’t expecting anything like that from her. By the time their relationship shifted from being entirely platonic, they were such long-standing fixtures in each other’s lives that it almost felt natural. They were comfortable together, and dead sure that no one on Earth could ever put up with them.

_ We’re each other’s best bet. _

How six years of commitment sprung from those oh-so-romantic words is proof that miracles are real, and that sometimes there’s no point to them.

It’s such a classically Raven thing to do, to wait years for Raja to make the next logical move knowing damn well the chances of that happening were slim. It’s the principle of the thing; Raven is never the one who asks. Raja knew that well enough to surrender Charlie without question. That this seemed to satisfy Raven enough to treat her as a friend after all was said and done is a testament to the heart beating in her chest. 

This move isn’t a lost young woman’s journey. Raja had stayed put when she was lost and young. Now, she lifts up out of the city she lived in for more than half her life with a job waiting on the other side.

Manila might not have wanted her to go, but that didn’t stop her from working her connections on Raja’s behalf. Raja hasn’t had a steady job since she was in her early twenties, eking out an existence by serving drinks at some godforsaken bar. She was born to work as a freelancer, has been doing just fine at it for almost half her life now, and would have eventually found her footing in the new city. But she can’t say it didn’t help to have Manila do the grunt work for her.

With a little help from her friend, Raja scored herself a gig helping a twee lifestyle brand update their image; some copywriting, some design. It should tide her over for a while, and then she can add some work to her portfolio. No matter how hard she tries, she has seen the pieces of her life fall into place fairly easily these past few years, so she may never truly live the questionable thrill of being professionally adrift again.

At least she can count on her personal life for some upheaval.

***

The offices of De La Creme are done up in shades of pink and turquoise. Apparently, these are the boss lady’s favourite colours. They permeate rooms she hasn’t visited in over a year.

Raja takes note of the colour scheme, as if she were likely to forget. 

She’s been sitting at reception for half an hour, watching the receptionist’s blood pressure rise with every passing minute.

“Where in God’s name  _ is _ that girl?” mutters the receptionist. 

She looks at Raja, as if she might know the answer. 

Raja shrugs. 

The receptionist sighs and taps her nails against her desk. Her nails could carve elaborate ice sculptures if she had the skill for it. 

Waiting doesn’t phase Raja. She’s waited in plenty of lobbies before, garish or otherwise. She’s had what can charitably be called “crystal visions” in a hospital waiting room while a friend was the one in genuine medical distress. The receptionist doesn’t need to fret on her behalf, but Raja figures she’s not worrying about  _ her  _ anyway, so telling her that wouldn’t do much good.

Still, it’s pretty boring, so she falls into a meditative state for lack of things to do. She’s not the type to be glued to her phone, worried that she might strain her eyes past their breaking point. She spends so much time looking at screens, it  _ could  _ happen. 

Finally, the doors of the office proper swing open. 

“Violet! What were you doing, taking a dump?”

“No, but I.T. was.”

“Fucking Shawn. Hey, do you know when they’ll let me off reception?”

“When Blair comes back from the dead. Her health has  _ really _ taken a nosedive lately.”

“I hope Courtney’s back when she finally lands a part and leaves us. She could have picked a better time to go on vacation, it’s almost Christmas.”

“I’ll try and think of a better person to cover this desk by then. Then I’ll pray the real decision maker listens.”

“Hmm. I still don’t know why they’ve got  _ me _ out here.”

“Sorry, Trinity. Life isn’t fair. Anyway, that’s the new contractor over there, right?”

“Oh, yeah—Hey! Ms. Amrull!”

Raja languidly turns her attention from a potted plant in the corner of the room back to reception. 

Years of stress have been lifted off the receptionist’s face. She gestures to the young woman who has just joined her.

“Someone’s here to get you.”

Raja’s escort approaches her with a tantalizing sway in her hips. 

Raja takes a good look. Her first impression is that of a woman who knows exactly what her walk can do to people. She stands to see this girl every weekday for the next few months, if she’s lucky. But it won’t do to stare, especially not in an office.

She rises to meet her.

The woman smiles, all business. Her eyes are dark, but could get darker under the right… circumstances.

“I’m Violet,” she says. “We’re ready for you now.”

Violet holds out her hand. Raja takes it, firmly. There’s no electricity, but Raja almost expected there to be, at least a little bit. 

She doesn’t kiss it, though. That would be a bit much.

“Raja,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

Violet sets her up with a desk, and her very own laptop. The laptop, Raja learns, was the reason she was left at reception for so long. Apparently there was some miscommunication about how much access to the internal system Raja would need, or whether she’d need any at all. 

“There was always the possibility that you wouldn’t need a laptop at all, too,” Violet says. “No one knew what to do about it, and I.T. would probably take their sweet time running if there was a fire in the building.”

Raja thinks she can see her eyes strain to stop themselves from rolling. Instead, Violet twiddles a gold pen between her fingers. The pen hangs from a chain around her neck, and Raja sees the danger in staring at it for too long. 

“Anyway, it’s all sorted now,” Violet continues. “Your laptop’s there if you need it.”

“I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble,” says Raja.

Violet shrugs.

“It’s my job to deal with these things. Keeps me on my toes, and under a roof.”

The ghost of a smile flits across Violet’s face, until she releases her pen to cover it. Her nails are neatly trimmed, kept fairly short, and she’s put a clear varnish over them. 

She has the hands of a pianist. Raja’s been said to have them too, but she imagines they’re more the hands of the royal pianist at a giant’s court.

“Sorry,” says Violet. “I should probably stop talking.”

“It’s fine,” Raja says. “I’m enjoying your company.”

Violet chuckles.

“I don’t hear that often.”

As much as Raja would like more time with her, Violet can’t stay and chat for too long. She’s needed elsewhere. If Raja peeks over the false wall boxing her into her new desk, though, she will be able to see Violet’s desk. 

“Give me a shout if you need anything,” says Violet.

She writes her cell phone number down for Raja to call, in case she’s not at her desk. Her handwriting is neat and straightforward, devoid of flourishes or frippery, in a company whose products harbour a passionate love for frills.

Raja affixes the slip of paper on the wall next to her. It draws her eye when she works, especially once she finds that there’s nothing she needs from Violet. Raja figures she was the one who arranged her work station for her, and she did a bang up job. She’s got the space she needs, a laptop with sufficient access to the company system, and a fresh notepad with some pens in case she didn’t have the foresight to bring her own. She even has a list of contacts, with a short description about what each person does, if she needs any information from a certain department. There’s a circle around the marketing officer‘s name.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t give Raja much of an excuse to talk to Violet.

***

Raja claims she likes working onsite, even as a temporary contractor, because she can mingle with her coworkers and get a sense of the company culture that way. In reality, she would gladly work at home in complete silence if the routine of getting up every morning to go somewhere didn’t have such a noticeable, positive impact on her life. She’s at her most ornery when she’s been cooped up for too long. She won’t bounce off the walls, but it’s bad enough that anyone who has to suffer her company at home would eventually beg her to take her laptop to Starbucks or something. 

Raja will take an office over a coffee shop, where she can’t be guaranteed a seat. Plus, most offices offer free coffee, and it’s just as disgusting as it would be if she bought it. She just doesn’t like to bring her work home if she can help it, especially when she’s still in the process of making her new apartment a home. She needs to make her preferences clear to the space, so that she can exist in it comfortably. 

Violet isn’t the first pretty office assistant Raja has encountered in her life. Still, she commands her attention when she passes by her desk. If she’s not too engrossed in her work, or simply not in the mood for interaction, Violet will turn her head and smile as she walks by. She smiles like the Mona Lisa. Her hair is always pulled into a tight ballerina bun. It makes Raja want to ask if she’d been a dancer at some point in time, almost as much as she wants to see it unraveled.

Raja  _ knows _ she’s there to work, not to ogle Violet, but she can indulge a little. That’s all she does for the first couple of days. Violet has fires to put out, and Raja wasn’t hired on to twiddle her thumbs. 

She’s greeted by most of the admin team, including Manila’s contact in the company, when the people in question can find the time. Standing up to shake each of their hands whenever they pop by her desk irks her a little bit, but she’s able to come across as if it doesn’t. 

It’s been said that Raja radiates a calming energy. Pity it usually flows outward.

She promises herself she’ll find the time to get her apartment in order. There’s a pile of boxes huddled along one of the walls. She thinks it might be funny to paint faces on them, but decides against it. Giving them faces will only make her less likely to empty them out.

With her razor-sharp eyes, Raven declares her apartment utterly depressing after only catching small glimpses of it on FaceTime.

“Please tell me I sent you all the art you wanted,” she says. “I was sure I did. No idea where it would be if not with you.”

Raven has a talent for making anything sound judgmental, even when she’s just worried. She could make the phone book sound insulting. It doesn’t make it easy for her to get along with others.

Thankfully, Raja’s fluent in Raven.

“It’s in one of the boxes. I just haven’t unpacked it.”

“Didn’t you have a ton of time before work started for you?”

“The box had to travel across the country, remember?”

Raven pouts.

“Tell me you go outside for something other than work.”

Raja doesn’t bother trying to claim groceries, restless walks, or smoking on the balcony as outdoor recreation. 

Raven sighs.

“Raja,” she says. “I’m going to bring Charlie over so you can see him. Then, I’m going to hang up, and you’re going to get your ass out of that sad little apartment. I want to see pictures.”

Raja hates it when Raven gets like this.

“Fine,” she says. “Now let me see the dog.”

Later, after receiving proof that Raja had walked down the street, Raven texts her saying she should get another dog. 

_ I won’t tell Charlie _ , she writes.

Raja sets her phone on her nightstand, face down.

***

There’s a flip chart on Violet’s desk, meant to broadcast her mood for the day. Raja has been taking note of it when she happens to pass by, and it brings a smile to her face every time she sees it. 

According to the chart, Violet is always feeling chipper. There’s a big, yellow smiley face to drive the point home. Raja has never seen it change. She’s also never had the pleasure of seeing Violet’s face break out into a smile anywhere near as big as the one on the picture. Looking at Violet, one would think she is always somewhere between expiring from boredom and being so focused on the task at hand that she can’t even crack a facial expression.

Raja has been working on a witty quip about it for a week. She’s having better luck with her actual work, so she hasn’t said anything to Violet. They exchange tiny smiles when their eyes meet.

Ever the loner, Raja takes her lunch at her desk and focuses on her writing. She uses her notepad as a sketchbook, when she needs to clear her mind. Sometimes, she goes out for a smoke. It’s not a thrill ride, but she’s engaged enough in her work, and it beats sitting at home all day, contemplating her bare walls.

Raja almost dreads leaving work, never sure what she ought to do to fill her remaining hours. She didn’t really expect to have this problem when she decided to start fresh. It had been a while since she’d truly experienced loneliness. She underestimated it, and now she’s grasping at something she doesn’t even know. 

Even Manila has been broadcasting her concern over state lines.

“You should get Tinder,” she suggests. 

Her face is tiny on Raja’s screen, but her eyes are big and wide.

“Tinder? Really?”

Manila smirks. 

“Yes, meemaw. It’s this nifty little app that matches you up with a good fuck from the comfort of your own home.”

Raja rolls her eyes. 

“I know what it is, you little shit.”

Manila blows her a little kiss, then sticks out her tongue.

“You could do well for yourself if you wanted to,” she says. “You’re like a silver fox.”

Raja likes to say that Manila is the reason she went gray. It started when she was in her early 30s, around the time they met. She knows it was just a coincidence, but it suits their banter to make that claim.

She lets a reference to that old chestnut die underneath her tongue, though she’s really feeling it.

“Maybe I should just unpack my stuff. Get my paints out.”

“I think you might be motivated to do that if you had a hot chick coming over to get that geriatric loving,” says Manila. “There has to be a bratty brunette with a resting bitch face  _ somewhere _ nearby. You should find her.”

Raja thinks that what she needs is to grow up, to take responsibility for the situation she created for herself. It’s easier to just go to work in the mornings, and then back home to stew in her juices, so that’s what she does.

One day, Violet stops by her desk.

“Val and I are going to Starbucks,” she says. 

“Oh,” says Raja.

“We’re asking around, in case anyone wants something.”

Violet plays with the pen around her neck as she waits for a response. She’s wearing a delicately woven bracelet, with an eyeball charm in the center. The charm’s iris is red, and the woven material that makes up the bracelet almost looks like veins.

Raja reaches out to point at it. Her fingers could graze her wrist if she leans forward a little.

“That’s cute,” she says. 

Violet blinks, staring back at her quizzically for a moment. She starts to say something, but her gaze follows Raja’s hand and she stops herself.

When she recovers, she holds her wrist up, “Oh, this?”

Raja nods.

“My friend made it,” says Violet. “She does, like, a million things. Jewelry is one of them.”

There’s a nearly imperceptible blush on her cheeks. Seeing that, coupled with Manila’s insistence that what she needs is a good fuck, does things to Raja. It stops her in her tracks, leaving Violet standing before her while she looks back at her, not registering much of anything. 

“I should probably get going,” Violet says, after patiently waiting for an acceptable response long enough. “Text me if you want us to bring you anything.”

Raja blurts out, “I don’t have cash on me.”

Good fucking grief.

“I can, uh,” she continues, now desperate to salvage the interaction. “I can pay you back tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Raja watches her turn and walk away. She spends close to half an hour staring at Violet’s number, still serving as the sole bit of decoration at her desk, and glancing at her phone. She doesn’t text Violet her order, because she doesn’t know what she wants. Instead, she sends her a text asking for information about her jeweler friend. Violet responds, pointing her to a website where she can browse what turns out to be a pretty interesting inventory. Raja wastes an hour or so on that. 

Her heart finally stops beating too fast when she’s about halfway home.

She doesn’t want to give Manila the satisfaction of knowing she  _ might _ have developed a crush on someone. She also doesn’t want to bring it up with Raven. It’s not like Raven would get mad or anything, but they haven’t gotten back to a place where they can gab about this sort of thing. 

When she gets home, she plops down on her couch and seriously considers getting a cat. Another dog doesn’t feel  _ right _ just yet.

She also spends some time coming up with a reliable order, in case Violet offers to buy Starbucks again. She vows to do better next time. Later, all bundled up in her sheets, she marvels at her arrogance, expecting that a young admin assistant would spontaneously offer to buy her coffee for a second time. 

Exhausted from overthinking, she shoves her face deep in her pillow. If she doesn’t smother herself to death, she at least hopes to get some sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr at @fannyatrollop


End file.
